


A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste

by SandrC



Series: One-Shot Wonders [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, Clint is a good GM, PTSD, TAZ: Commitment - Freeform, They all do but Irene was fucking MIA so.., Vomit, bless him, ementophobia, irene needs a hug, mentions of disassociation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-29 23:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12641817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandrC/pseuds/SandrC
Summary: Please don't make me do that again.





	A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste

**Author's Note:**

> Blame coffee for this one. Fuck you Ray but like...I already love the new boys. And how else do I show my love except by writing character studies?!
> 
> This one is very Irene and Remy-centric but I have plans for Nadiya-centric ones. I have plans for many new fics for TAZ: Commitment. Y'all have no idea. It will consume you. ;3

When the three return back to the Berg after their harrowing mission at Hallelu-land, Nadiya immediately departs for her dormitory to sleep off the crushing exhaustion that was chasing her after using her newfound skill. That leaves Remy and Kardalah to stand in the docking area, where the Skimmers are sitting for use by other Fellowship members, and to contemplate what comes next.

It is to Remy's immediate relief that his legs almost crumple beneath him when Nadiya exceeds the hundred meter limit of their bond. That relief slips into joy and concern as Kardalah's large form—previously standing proud and preening after a job well done—folds in to become Irene Baker again.

"Oh _thank fuck_ ," he sighs as he supports her sinking weight against his right shoulder. "Glad to see you again, Irene. Thought you were _gonzo_ for a sec. Fucking up and devoured by the grumpy goddess like some sort of spiritual jerky, y'know?"

Irene doesn't answer, instead letting her body drop closer and closer to the floor. Silent tremors wrack her frame and she shudders once, a rolling wave of tensing and releasing, and chunky puke expels from her mouth. Remy shifts his stance so he's kneeling behind and to the left of her—the shift already calling pain into overstretched muscles and exhausted tendons—and he rubs small circles between her shoulder blades.

"Hey. _Hey hey hey hey now_ ," Remy is an open book, concerned for her and worried about her health. "It's _okay_. You're _here_ now. It's gonna be okay. We're _all good_."

Another spasm ripples through Irene and bile pours out again. She knuckles her eyes and shakes with the effort of feeling. " _Please_ ," her voice is hoarse and pained, stripped by stomach acid and Kardalah's disregard for anything belonging to Irene. "Please don't make me do that again. I don't...I don't want to do that again..."

Remy is stock-still. His eyes dart over her face and absorbs micro-movements in Irene's twisted and suffering expression. He sees no deception in her fear. He pulls her close and hums a low note. " _Okay_ ," he murmurs, still low and still with her head pressed against her chest. "I won't make you do anything you don't want. Nor will Grace or Potts or Joe or Martin or Parsons or any of the other department heads here. If you ask the heads of the Fellowship to let you go, they will. Irene, Nadiya and I will be _fine_ here, doing our jobs and keeping this place afloat but make sure _you're_ safe and happy _first_." The thrumming tone that resonates through his sternum and vibrates against her skull and collarbone is a lull. He knows this. He is using this to his advantage.

Irene inhales to seven and exhales to seven, long and steady breaths from mouth to nose. Her heart races and she thinks about how she would help someone like this but the screams of Kardalah rage inside her and her heart is Kardalah's fists ramming against the prison bars of Irene Baker. She loses herself in the fear of nonexistence and it is all-consuming and she cannot save herself.

Remy rescues her with his steady heartbeat and a gentle hug. He pulls her up from the depths. "You wanna lay down?"

She nods, grounding herself against his presence and warmth and comfort.

"Well you and I can't get near Nadiya so...the prow of the Berg? The _Tip_ , if you will?" Irene can't see his face but she's almost certain that he is grinning cheekily at his dick joke. She can't even bring herself to reprimand him for unprofessional conduct. "Farthest point from the dorms?"

"Please."

He heaves her to her feet and supports her all the way to the deck chairs on the prow, gently laying her in a cloth-and-wood seat. Huffing in an exaggerated manner, Remy wipes away sweat on his forehead. "Want a drink? Not _alcohol_ , of course, but like, _water_? _With ice?!_ "

The Gulf breeze brushes against Irene's face and she can't tell if the salt coating her cheeks are from tears or the ocean. Irene realizes she's parched. She nods, "if you don't mind." Her voice is still worn but stronger. She's more present than before.

"Aight then," he walks off—Irene tries to ignore how he limps slowly or how he lists to the right—returning with two glasses with ice and a pitcher of water. "Okay now don't chug it though, cause you'll ralf and I don't think your poor throat can take much more of that. Slow drink with the ice and then when that's gone we'll _talk_ about more."

A soft smile warms Irene's face and she sips at her water. It shocks her system as she can feel it travel to deeper within. Remy was right about that. _Smart_. She sips again.

"I'm _not_...I'm not gonna pretend like I know what the _hell_ you went through but...," Remy's gaze wanders downward to his hands, twiddling his thumbs, "...that shit was _scary_ and I won't blame you if you want to leave and live a normal life. Space Cadet... _Mary_ was...a glimpse at what _could_ be us? If that...future is as scary to _you_ as it is to _me_...I won't stop you. Leave. Be _Irene_. Do _you_ , okay, but don't stay cause you think _we_ want you to."

Tears well in her eyes. She sniffles heavily and rubs at the snot that dribbles down her nose. " _I..._ "

"I mean, we won't be hurt if you leave. Well, _I_ won't. Idk about Nadiya but...who _knows_ what she's on about so...," Remy flails as he speaks. It's a comfort. "So like... _do you?_ "

"It's...what did...what was she like for _you_?" Remy refills her glass with room-temperature water and she drinks it faster. Her body tries to push it out but she swallows it down. _Water is good_ , she tells her body. _Enjoy the water._

"Well...Kardalah is like...," Remy rubs the back of his head and gives Irene a weak smile. It's forced. They both can tell but it's _definitely_ forced. Irene still appreciates it. "Imagine you've got this doofy lil puppy that has big ol paws and a _gigantic_ head. It's the damn _cutest_ pupper ever and it's just _so_ sweet!" A dopey smile, a _real_ one, dominates Remy's face. It dribbles into a solemn frown. "Now like imagine that one day you wake up and this puppy is now like...fucking like _twice_ your size and isn't a dog but a _wolf_ and it like gets snippy every time you don't feed it when it wants to be fed. That's... _I don't know_...but that's how Kardalah is for _me_. Like _you_? I...you're not harm _less_ or anything cause you're in HR and they'll like fucking pink slip you faster than you can say ' _suck a dick, dumbshits_ ' and they handle insurance and so on but _like_...Kardalah is physical harm and power and like... _ba-kow_ , y'know?" He makes an explosion with his hands to accompany the noise.

While Irene doesn't know _exactly_ he's trying to say, she gets it. She knocks back her third cup of water and refills it herself, laughing softly when Remy pouts as she sets the pitcher down. The gentle rocking of the Berg—almost unnoticeable due to its hydraulic stabilization system and structural shape—is soothing as she allows her body to relax. Her parasympathetic responses draw down her blood pressure and heart rate and she can feel her eyelids fighting gravity. It was... _nice_ but—

"Do _you_...I mean," Remy fiddles with his spinner, obviously unsure of how to ask what is on his mind. "What was it like for _you_? If you don't mind me asking, that is. Cause like if it's bad to talk about or your brain does a _thing_ and it makes you uncomfy then we can talk about like _puppies_ or someshit. It doesn't have to be about... _Kardalah_." It's endearing how hard he's trying to not upset her. Irene shakes her head.

"It's... _fine_. So...you know how sometimes you're watching TV and someone does something _stupid_? Whether it's a game show or a quiz show or a movie, you see the stupid thing and want to yell and scream so they can hear you and do the _right_ thing?" Her voice is still hoarse. She figures that it'll be that way until she gets a good six hours reat. Honey and tea will help too. Remy, eyes wide with focus despite the buzzing of his spinner, nods. "Well _when_...it was like that. I was watching myself make stupid decisions and I _couldn't_... _I_ couldn't _do_..." Tears choke her out and she stops trying to explain. Emotions first and _then_ logic. That's how Irene Baker does things. Then problem solving and talking to Grace about a transfer. More paperwork and breathing and moving and _sure_ , she'll miss Remy and Nadiya, but having autonomy is more important.

She _feels_ his embrace instead of seeing it. Her eyes are too watery to see clearly but the way his arms tentatively wrap around her—easing around her shoulders and shifting her weight so she's got her head pressed against the left side of his chest—and the gentle hum he makes is appreciated.

" _Hey_ now," his voice vibrates through her head and jaw and tension she has yet to notice evaporates like melting fat, "what did I say about this? We don't mind if you decide to leave. Nadiya and I, we didn't lose our sense of self when those stimplants cracked us out of the skin-cocoons." He shudders when he says that and she would laugh but suddenly the movement of the Berg and the salty Gulf breeze and the rumble of his voice is beating her will into submission. "If you wanna split, then _split_. Our comfort is second to your health and safety, _miss Humanities._ " His tone is mocking but he continues to keep the pitch low and the meter even. She sighs and tension in her chest abates. "So talk to Grace and we'll get all this sorted and you can be on the next Skimmer to like...I dunno...fucking _Barbados_ or something. Somewhere that makes you happy. That keeps you _safe_. And Nadiya will continue to pound back dectuple-espresso concoctions and terrify her co-workers and I'll keep asking people if they've tried ' _turning it off and then on again_ '. Life will continue on if you want to leave. Don't let us decide _for_ you, okay? And besides..." The rest of his chatter is drowned out by the gentle embrace of Morpheus. The bass of his voice recedes to thunder on a shore and the sea breeze is on her lips and she inhales sharply as ozone paints the air around her with pennies and burning. Petrichor coats her tongue and she nods, resolute.

In her dreams, Irene Baker confronts Kardalah to the sound of thunder and raging waves. On the Tip of the Berg, Christopher Rembrandt holds his coworker close and allows his calm façade to crumble to dust. In her dormitory, Nadiya Jones allows soporific exhaustion drag her to dreamless rest.

But, one way or another, the world will continue to turn and another trio will be created and another crime will be stopped. The fate of the world does not solely rest on these three people's shoulders. It is not their burden to bear.

This allows them to decide. This affords them autonomy.

This makes them _free_.


End file.
